


moonlight

by chailattemusings



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Werewolf, blood cw, lycanthrope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailattemusings/pseuds/chailattemusings
Summary: Grog needs a fair fight, and there's only one person he's met who hasn't given him one yet.





	moonlight

Pike had warned Grog of the tricks and delusions of the Feywild, that it could lure you in and hold you down fast before you even blinked. Grog, she’d told him, even your strength might not be enough to get out of a bind if you wander off somewhere dangerous.

Which was ridiculous, really. Strength had never failed Grog. They defeated the dragons with strength, they beat up Kevdak with strength, they even killed a smarmy _god_ with strength. If the fey wanted to come after him while he was traipsing around the Feywild, they were perfectly welcome. Grog had one hand on his axe handle and the other curved into a fist, waiting for them.

Besides, Keyleth was here. Well, not _here_ , because Grog had told her he had private business to handle, but she was waiting near the reflecting pool where they’d first plane shifted inside the Feywild and Grog had strict orders to stay within range of the earring for as long as possible. If Keyleth didn’t hear from him for long enough she would come looking.

Grog just had to make sure he took care of his business within that time. It wasn’t an easy concept and he wasn’t counting any of the minutes that flew by as he walked through knee high purple grass, but he’d know when he felt tired that it’d been about a day and he should turn back.

There wasn’t a lot that was recognizable about the Feywild as a whole. Pike hadn’t known much about it but when Grog asked Keyleth she said that her tribe had a few books about it from other arch druids who’d traveled here, who said the place shifted over time like sand dunes; slow enough that you might be able to find your way if you visited each week, but if enough time passed you wouldn’t know backwards from sideways. Most people only made the trip here once or twice in their lifetimes and hadn’t bothered to write much about the changing landscape.

Grog remembered enough about their first trip. He’d passed the big field where they’d first met Artagan and was nearing the place where they’d fought the pixies, which was as far as he knew to go. Lycan territory wasn’t clearly marked but hopefully the borders hadn’t changed much from when they’d first come. Grog had _tried_ to get Scanlan to give him the flute that summoned Ukurat, but after looking Scanlan had said he’d lost it, probably shoved in some drawer in the house he and Pikey bought after they got married.

Pike had wanted to come, too, but her swollen pregnant belly had other things to say about what she should be doing, which was mostly being bored and tired in her bed while Scanlan tried to write songs that made her laugh. Nothing that interested Grog.

Grog looked at the trees around him, searching for any sign of the Lycans. He hadn’t gone quite far enough yet but he’d seen Vex do that thing where she tracked animals down to their dens for hunting and he figured a Lycan might have some of the same signs. But he couldn’t see any footprints in the ground or claw marks along the trees, no sign that anything living had ever been here.

“Fuckin’ Feywild,” he muttered, shouldering his axe.

“You’d do best not to insult our home.”

Grog whirled around, wielding his axe in front of him. No one stood there, empty air and swaying tree branches filling the space.

“I commend your reaction time, if nothing else.”

The voice was behind him on the other side and Grog spun, coming face to face with a massive head and dark eyes the size of plates staring him down. Ukurat.

“What’d you do that for?” Grog asked, not letting his axe down.

Ukurat bared his teeth. “What did I do what for, strong one? You’re in my land and I’m confronting a trespasser. There is nothing more to it.”

Grog sniffed. They hadn’t known Ukurat long enough to see what kind of… person(?) he was. If he started yammering on like Percy did then Grog was out of here. “No,” Grog corrected, “why’d you do it all sneaky? You know me. You coulda just said hi.”

Ukurat stood up straight, towering over Grog. He was at least four feet taller and much wider, filling up the space between the trees like a wall. “I am not ‘most people,’” he said slowly. “Tell me, strong one, are you and your friends in need of assistance again? Must you defeat another would-be archfey who is taking over the lands?”

“Nah,” Grog said, waving a hand. “We don’t got shit to do in the Feywild. I came here on a… personal mission.”

Ukurat’s nostrils flared. “You’d best get on with it, then.”

He was absolutely no fun to talk to, Grog decided, but at least he got down to the point quickly. “The way I figure,” he said, taking his axe off his shoulder to swing between his hands, “we didn’t get a chance to have a one on one, and that’s real disappointing. I don’t pass up a good fight if I can help it, and you,” he eyed Ukurat meaningfully, “are a _good fight_.”

“So you came to my home to antagonize me?”

“Not like that.” Grog swung the axe a few more times and spun it to settle on his back, tying it in its holster. He held up both fists, smacking them together so the knuckles of his gloves clanged. “I want a _fun_ fight. You know, a match. Between two strong people.”

Ukurat crossed his arms and leaned back on his haunches, wolven legs bending to support his massive weight. He sighed, so loud that Grog swore he could hear the tree branches giving way to Ukurat’s breath. “Why,” he asked dully, “should I fight you and not simply leave you here, or send my comrades after you for trespassing?”

“‘Cuz I bet you haven’t had a good fight with someone who could actually take you in a long, long time.”

“What makes you think I _want_ a fair fight?”

All these damn questions. Grog took it back, Ukurat wasn’t getting to the point at all. Everyone in the Feywild had to prattle around in circles until Grog said something stupid and they could laugh at him. He grit his teeth and said, “Look, I’m bored. I’ve beaten up a lot of things. There’s not much that lasts against me. But you,” he pointed to Ukurat, “are a giant bastard, and if you’re as bored as me then a real good fight could solve a lot of issues.”

Ukurat huffed something that might have been a laugh if it didn’t sound so empty. “This is a favor, then,” he growled. “You want me to indulge you to cure your rut.”

“I just want a fight!” Grog groaned. All these _words_ , if something didn’t change soon he was going to start a fight whether Ukurat liked it or not.

“Then what’s in it for me?” Ukurat asked. “I don’t need constant battle for fulfillment. In fact I’ve been quite enjoying the peace after your lot sent the pixies away, and I repaid you that debt already with my own help. After Saundor’s death I’ve had enough battling.”

Grog shifted uneasily. Pike had warned him about offering things to fey folk, even the ones that didn’t look all that clever. “I can pay you.”

“I have no use for gold or coins.”

“I can...” Grog thought for a long minute. “I can get you a cool weapon.”

Ukurat held up his hands and flexed his long, inhuman fingers. They were tipped with razor sharp claws that Grog didn’t doubt could slash flesh as easily as a sword through paper. “Try again.”

Grog thought for a long few minutes, enough that his head started to throb a bit as he went through all his options. All he really cared about in life was ale, fighting, and gold to buy more ale. He had a feeling the ale wouldn’t be that tempting to Ukurat. What else, what else…

He stopped, and grinned. “Then how about,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “if you beat me, you get to fuck me?”

Ukurat’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”

“Big guy like you, must have trouble finding partners that can take you. I do, it sucks. When you find someone your own size to rumble with,” he chuckled, “it’s fucking _great_.”

Ukurat cocked his head, thinking. “You’re saying if I give you a thrilling battle, you’ll allow me the use of your body?”

“For sex, yeah.” The way Ukurat said it sounded like one of those deals where Grog thought he was agreeing to one thing and got another and he wasn’t having any of that today. “Does that sound good?” he asked, extending a hand toward Ukurat.

The lycan stared at Grog for a long moment, raised his hand, and slapped it into Grog’s palm. His fingers were like steel traps curling around Grog’s hand, locking him in place. “Very well,” he said in a deep rumble. “You have a deal.”

Grog didn’t even have a moment to thank him because Ukurat yanked him forward by the hand and launched into Grog with a full body tackle.

It sent Grog flying, Ukurat’s arms wrapping around him to pin him. Grog roared and shoved Ukurat’s chest, getting enough space between them to curl under and roll away before Ukurat could get a solid grip. He reached automatically for his axe and paused. “Weapons?” he asked breathlessly.

“Bare hands,” Ukurat snarled, scrambling to stand.

Grog grinned. “Awesome.” He shucked his Titanstone Knuckles off and sucked in a long breath, screaming at Ukurat with all the primal rage he could summon and kicking his barbarian training into gear. His blood surged and pumped through his veins with the force of a waterfall, muscles twitching with newfound energy.

The next time Ukurat launched at him Grog dodged it and darted away. Ukurat was a lycan, the strength and speed of a wolf in him. With only brute force, Grog wouldn’t last long. Maybe longer if he tried to strategize, but that was harder with every minute that passed that he was forced to deal with Ukurat instead of concentrating. He ducked and wove around Ukurat’s straight forward tackles, searching for a weak point. On someone as big as Ukurat there were a lot of places to look and not a lot of time to examine them.

“Is this all you have?” Ukurat asked, standing straight to glare down at him. “Some running around? I thought this was meant to be a challenge.”

“It is,” Grog assured him, pausing with Ukurat and holding his hands in front of him for a quick defense. “I’m testing the waters.”

Ukurat snorted. “Why test? We are fighting. The time for tests is over.”

“Yeah? Maybe not.” Grog balled his hands into fists and ran at Ukurat again.

Ukurat tensed and squatted, prepared for Grog to bash into him. But Grog didn’t go for his front; he feigned left and ducked down, snatching Ukurat’s ankle and yanking as he ran underneath Ukurat’s massive body. Grog could _feel_ the displacement of weight as he pulled and Ukurat roared, tumbling to the ground.

It wasn’t much but it was enough for Grog to whirl around and launch himself onto Ukurat’s back, scrambling up and locking his arms around the werewolf’s neck. “See?” he grunted, yanking his arm up to press into Ukurat’s neck. “Not rushing in… works. My friend Pikey… taught me that.” He spoke through grit teeth as Ukurat stood up and shook vigorously to dislodge him. Grog stayed on tight, ignoring the way the motion set his head spinning.

Ukurat panted. “Yes, I can admit my own mistakes. I underestimated you.” He snarled and grabbed Grog’s arms, trying to dig underneath them to pry him away, but Grog felt it coming and yanked his arm up higher, strangling the beast. Ukurat yowled and wheezed, stumbling. A few more minutes of this and Ukurat wouldn’t even be able to breathe.

Unfortunately Grog didn’t have a few minutes. Ukurat curled his hands over Grog’s forearms and dug the claws in, starting to run. Grog held on for dear life and focused so hard on not being thrown off, that he didn’t even see the giant, looming tree that Ukurat was headed for.

At the last second Ukurat turned his back to it, slamming Grog into the trunk. Grog’s head cracked on the wood and he yelled, his grip on Ukurat’s neck slacking just enough for Ukurat to get his hands under Grog’s arms.

With sharp claws, Ukurat dug into Grog’s meaty forearms and pulled them forward, bucking at the same time to launch Grog off his back and using that momentum to slam him into the ground. Grog grunted, body bouncing like plywood on the forest floor. His shoulders throbbed with the force of being nearly yanked from their sockets and he forced his eyes open to glare up at Ukurat.

Ukurat grinned his wide wolf mouth at Grog, a flicker of confidence in his eyes, and it was exactly the opening Grog needed. He yanked his hands free from Ukurat’s grip and shoved himself to his feet, landing shakily and quickly correcting himself to stand tall and ready. He barely got his balance when Ukurat snarled and rushed him again.

They danced like this around the forest, trading blows and grapples and dodges. Grog managed a hard punch to Ukurat’s jaw that dazed him, but before he could hit his stomach Ukurat recovered and slashed with razor sharp claws that took a good chunk from Grog’s shoulder. After that he was careful not to get too close to Ukurat and those claws again, instead aiming for his legs when he could. Ukurat wasn’t dumb; he’d underestimated Grog once but after he saw his techniques he picked up quickly on it. He didn’t leave his lower half open, cutting off a majority of what Grog could hit and forcing him to weave and roll and run from the force of his strikes.

His rage wore off faster than Grog wanted and he was quick to start the next one, drawing it from his open wounds and the bruises throbbing under his skin. He didn’t keep track of how many he went through; all Grog cared about was Ukurat’s form slowing with each passing minute, how he paused longer between hits as his energy burned to the end of its rope.

Ukurat was big, but Grog had been doing this for a long time. He hasn’t beaten dragons and gods for nothing.

He roared and ran at Ukurat one last time, fist raised and aimed for his face, legs braced to kick Ukurat’s own out from under him and send him across the forest floor. From there Grog could grab his arms and pin the bastard, maybe elbow his head to the ground–

Grog couldn’t finish his fantasy. When he leaped to strike, Ukurat bent down. Grog tried to twist to get his punch in but Ukurat’s hand darted up and wrapped around his waist. Rather than throwing Grog to the side, he pulled him _in_ , close to his massive hairy chest, and tossed them both to the ground.

Grog grunted at the weight of Ukurat on him, topped a second later by teeth piercing his shoulder. Grog yelled and jerked but Ukurat only dug his teeth in deeper, sharp pain radiating from the wound. Grog snarled, trying to get his arms up. Ukurat pinned them down fast, hands the size of Grog’s head wrapping around his wrists and locking like steel traps. His claws pricked at the delicate skin of Grog’s inner wrist, threatening to dig if he tried to escape.

Ukurat waited. Grog struggled, and could have escaped if every movement didn’t make his neck _scream_ in unholy pain. It took a moment to realize that his last rage had faded, probably right when Ukurat had struck him, and he couldn’t find another one to summon. The inferno that burned in him and sent his anger flying out of his body as strength had dimmed, used completely for the day and leaving Grog pinned under the massive lycan body.

Slowly, so slowly that the ache of it was almost worse than the bite itself, Ukurat withdrew from Grog’s shoulder. “It seems,” he said, chuckling, “that I have won.”

“Bullshit,” Grog spat, straining against Ukurat’s grip. Even without the shoulder bite he barely moved, his legs held down and twisted around Ukurat’s own. “I can still– fight– fuck!” he growled, head falling back uselessly on the ground.

“I could break your arms and legs if that’s what it would take, but that would make it very difficult for you to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Grog huffed, glaring up at him. “We gonna do that right now? Thought you’d at least buy me a beer first.”

Ukurat huffed, nostrils flaring, hot breath washing over Grog’s face. “I will give you time to recover,” he said, moving off of Grog and sitting back on his own haunches.

As Grog sat up, he took in Ukurat’s form. The lycan himself hadn’t escaped injury; though Grog couldn’t see any bruises beneath his fur, the skin was broken in a few places and there were large bloodstains that had started to dry and clump his fur together. His lips were also split in a couple places, something that made pride swell in Grog’s chest. Maybe he hadn’t won but he sure as hell hadn’t made it easy. And, fuck, it _had_ been a good fight. It had been a long time since anyone had given Grog a run for his money, and he could feel the adrenaline still pumping like an avalanche through his veins.

Ukurat turned and caught him staring. “You don’t have forever to dawdle,” he warned Grog.

He took the hint, standing and raising his arms over his head to stretch. Ukurat was doing similar, bending in quick lunges and wrapping his arms over his torso to stretch the joints. Grog admired the sight as he took a potion from his belt and downed it, healing the worst of the injuries. There was a second one but Grog left it; he might need it later. And… sometimes he liked it a bit rough. He wasn’t expecting anything less than the best from Ukurat.

“All right,” he said when he felt limber and ready, “let’s get down to–”

A shove cut him off and Grog tumbled to the ground. He looked up at Ukurat who darted down, curling his hands under Grog’s back and hoisting him up. He grunted with the effort but got Grog over his shoulder and starting moving deeper into the forest. Grog braced his hands against Ukurat’s back and pushed, going exactly nowhere and forced to watch the trees they passed as Ukurat walked steadily through the forest.

“Wha–”

“This place has listeners,” Ukurat grumbled. “Now hush. I want no further words from you.”

Grog frowned. “Why?”

A large hand slapped his ass, followed by claws digging harshly into the flesh. Grog hissed and groaned, and the hand lowered. “Don’t question me.”

“Well aren’t we special?” Grog mocked. That got him another claw into the meat of his thigh and he felt blood drip down the skin when it withdrew. It was barely more than a scratch but the pale throb of it had him grinning. This was going to be _fun_.

They walked long enough that Grog got bored. He tried to ask where they were headed exactly, only able to see where they’d been over Ukurat’s shoulder, but every time he talked Ukurat hit him and told him to be silent. After the first few tries even the teasing got dull and Grog resigned himself to waiting. It was the thing he hated most about doing anything, and he distracted himself with thoughts about what Ukurat might do to him. It’d been a long time since Grog had been with anyone larger than himself. People like that were hard to find, the ones who wanted to fuck Grog even harder. There were potions and things but Grog didn’t want to make himself small or make someone bigger; he wanted someone who could crush him all on their own.

After forever they finally stopped. The forest didn’t look much different to Grog, maybe with denser trees. When Ukurat set him down, though, he saw that the grass on the forest floor had been replaced with a soft, springy moss. It was deep green and didn’t change colors the way the grass did. Instead, it seemed more resilient than normal moss, bouncing back perfectly with each step Grog took over it. They’d stopped in a small clearing within the thick trees, the area edged by a few rocks and shrubs.

“This is nice,” he said idly, looking past the trees. If he looked hard he thought he could see the part of the forest they’d come from but it was far, and the density of the woods here kept out a good bit of the light. It was almost like a little cocoon from the rest of the Feywild. “So how did you wanna–”

Ukurat’s hands clamped hard on Grog’s hips and he turned him around, grinning. “What did I say about talking? Hush.” He didn’t give Grog time to respond or protest, leaning down to swipe a long, hot tongue over Grog’s throat.

At the same time he pushed under Grog’s hips to bring him close and force his legs up off the ground, pressing Grog flush against himself and lowering them both to the ground. The moss was soft and almost ticklish under Grog’s back, contrasting the weight of Ukurat’s body.

His dripping tongue traced over Grog’s throat, drawing back to let teeth the size of Grog’s fingers prick his skin. Ukurat dragged them down, teasing and nipping Grog’s collar. His hands had a hold on Grog’s hips to pin him and Ukurat arched down, rubbing their groins together.

Grog laughed. “I didn’t take you for the gentle type.”

Ukurat growled and nipped him again, claws digging into his waist. “Watch it, pup.”

“What? I just figured a big guy like you, he’d have a little more power to him.”

“I _know_ what you are doing.” Ukurat sat up to look at Grog, eyes narrowed. “And if you wish so badly for roughness, you need only ask.”

Ukurat’s hands tightened over Grog’s hips and _yanked_ , pulling him up and flipping him on his belly. Grog tried to push himself up but Ukurat planted a firm hand on the back of his neck, fingers tight as a noose around it. Grog groaned and struggled against his hold. Ukurat’s grip lost purchase for only a second and then the lycan was on him, large body pressed over Grog’s and something hot and thick against Grog’s ass.

Ukurat reached between them and flipped Grog’s loincloth out of the way. “You asked for this, runt,” he grunted, sliding his cock between Grog’s cheeks. Grog tensed, readying himself for a rough start– it wouldn’t be the first he’d gotten– and was caught off guard when Ukurat lowered his body and he felt hot breath across his upper thighs. Ukurat moved his hands to Grog’s legs and spread them, bending his head down and letting his long, slick tongue lick across his hole.

Grog huffed and squirmed. Ukurat’s tongue was like a dog’s, long and thin, and the sensation of it sent chills up his spine. Ukurat either didn’t notice or didn’t care, curling one hand on Grog’s ass to part his cheeks and lick earnestly, working Grog slowly open with hot, firm streaks of his tongue. Grog pushed back into it, rocking his hips against the ground and groaning as his own cock filled, jolts of pleasure sparking from the contact and the slickness behind him.

Ukurat worked Grog over until he was panting and arching up against his tongue, and moved back into place over him, arms braced on either of Grog’s forearms. He kicked Grog’s thighs even wider and pushed his cock against Grog’s entrance, pausing. “Ready, whelp?”

Grog panted and peered at Ukurat over his shoulder. “Stop stallin’ and just– ahh!” he cried, cut off as Ukurat pushed his cock into him. It was tight even after he’d been worked open and Grog grit his teeth. He’d almost forgotten what being fucked felt like, the stretch overwhelming every other sensation. Ukurat rocked gentle but fast, working himself inside, panting hot against the back of Grog’s neck. He tensed and adjusted himself, pressing in deeper and darting down to curl his teeth around Grog’s shoulder once more.

“Ow! The fuck is with you– fuck– biting me?” Grog snarled. Ukurat only growled and bit harder, the sharp tingle throbbing down Grog’s shoulder and twisting against the pleasure of Ukurat’s cock spearing him open. Grog leaned into the bite despite his protests, fingers curling with each increment deeper that Ukurat’s teeth dug into him.

When he bottomed out, Ukurat paused inside Grog, huffing deeply. Grog rolled his shoulders, tensing at the way it pulled against the bite. Ukurat’s cock was like fire inside him, thick and burning, and stilled like this it gave him no satisfaction. “Come on, big guy,” he prodded, jerking his hips. Ukurat bit deeper and Grog hissed, but rolled his hips again. “Let’s _go_.”

Ukurat withdrew his teeth and chuckled. “So impatient. Perhaps I’ll wait longer.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want it. I can feel how hard your dick is.”

Ukurat made a rumbling noise and nosed over Grog’s back, idly licking the skin. He lapped at the wound he’d left, making it sting and laughing again when Grog swore at him. He licked until the worst of the blood flow stopped and the twinge of pain had settled into something manageable.

Resting his head over Grog’s, Ukurat said, “I can admit when I’m wrong. I _very much_ want you.” And he pulled back to thrust hard.

Fucking _finally_ , Grog thought, yelling and shoving his hips back to meet Ukurat’s thrusts. Ukurat’s cock was long and thick, filling him so well Grog barely had room to breathe. Grog’s cock throbbed against his belly and he tightened around Ukurat each time he pushed in.

Even the soft forest moss started to scrape Grog’s knees and thighs as they fucked. He pushed so hard against Ukurat that he managed to get himself up on all fours, with enough leverage to fuck back as hard as Ukurat was fucking into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Ukurat didn’t even pause at Grog’s change in position, taking the chance to fuck him even faster.

Each deep stroke into him was like a punch in the gut, each pull out leaving Grog empty and wanting, pleasure sinking deep into his spine and making his whole body shake. He’d dug into the moss so hard that he’d ripped the roots out and Grog’s fingers curled instead over rich, dark soil. Ukurat’s body was warm, his fur scraping Grog’s skin, balls slapping Grog’s ass as he moved. Grog’s shoulder still throbbed, protesting his movement, and fresh blood trickled down and stained his arm.

Another wet swipe of Ukurat’s tongue over his bite made him groan. He slowed his thrusts and paused, breathing heavy over Grog’s back. One hand curled around Grog’s belly and took him in hand to pump his thick shaft. Grog jerked into his grip, fucking Ukurat’s fingers. His body felt strung tight like a wire and ready to snap with every twist of movement over his cock. As Ukurat teased him he started fucking into Grog again, working up his speed as he jerked Grog off.

Grog moaned, back arching and knees digging into the dirt as he pushed himself back and forth, pressing into Ukurat’s hand and then onto his cock, all the time his blood singing and muscles twitching with the ever approaching end.

He thumped a hand hard into the ground and shouted as he came, orgasm ripping through him and shaking him to his core. He bucked into Ukurat’s hand, his come spilling onto the moss, the hot stretch of Ukurat’s cock forcing waves of pleasure through him long after Grog thought he was worked to the bone.

He panted when the soul crushing spike of pleasure started to fade, cock throbbing weakly in Ukurat’s hand, completely empty.

Ukurat brought his hand around to Grog’s front and pressed a finger to his lips. Grog panted and took it between his lips, sucking off the taste of himself while Ukurat continued slowly fucking him. Something felt… different about his cock, but Grog couldn’t put his mind on it in the afterglow of orgasm. Ukurat withdrew his hand and braced himself fully on the ground, fucking harder, and only then did Grog realize that his cock felt thicker at the base, the swell of it popping in and out of him with every push.

He laughed, though the sound lacked any real power. “I wondered if that was a myth.”

Ukurat didn’t respond, only fucking harder as his knot swelled with every thrust into Grog, stretching him more and making Grog curl and twist under him. When it stretched so much it ached and Grog opened his mouth to warn him, Ukurat stilled, pressing himself in deep and staying there. His head rested on Grog’s shoulder, heavy like a boulder, hot breath coming in quick pants.

His knot throbbed inside Grog and locked them together. Grog grunted at the feeling of hot come pumping into him, Ukurat’s hips flexing and rocking deeper into him.

Assured he wouldn’t pull them apart, Grog let his arms give out, settling front first on the dirt and moss. It made his back twinge but he didn’t fucking care, he’d be sore for days anyway.

Ukurat scooped an arm under Grog and held him up to turn them both on their sides, knot pulling but staying in place. Grog made vague protesting noises and elbowed Ukurat weakly. Ukurat only wrapped his arm more securely around Grog, keeping him locked up against Ukurat’s body. Grog couldn’t have left if he wanted to, but he wasn’t going to object to post sex cuddles if that was what Ukurat wanted to do.

Ukurat let out a long, slow breath. “I am satisfied. It’s been some time since I was able to release tension so thoroughly.”

Grog chuckled. “Glad you liked it.”

Ukurat sighed, the force of his breath rustling Grog’s beard hairs. “Strong one,” he rumbled, “did you truly come here only to pick a fight with me?”

“Hm? Yeah. I was bored, wanted a good challenge.”

“And that was your only goal?”

Grog frowned. “I’m not some _fey_ with all their secret plans and weird words and all that shit. I came here for a fight and I got one.”

“Not this?” Ukurat rocked into him to emphasize his point, knot throbbing and releasing another bout of come into Grog. “It seems to me that you were rather eager to jump into a deal that involved us having sex.”

“You’re the one who took it.”

Ukurat made a noncommittal noise, like Percy did when Grog proved a point but he didn’t want to admit it because his precious ego would get bruised. Grog snorted and shifted to settle more comfortably on the moss. Some people could never admit when he was right.

A few peaceful minutes passed.

Ukurat froze, hands tensing over Grog’s chest. He lifted his head, nostrils flared and sniffing deeply. Grog’s brow furrowed and he glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s coming.”

“Yeah?” Grog settled down again. “Scare ‘em off.”

Ukurat snarled quietly. “I don’t think that will be possible.”

Grog started to ask why, cut off by the sound of snapping twigs and brush breaking, and a long drawn out _roar_.

A large cat, snowy white and streaked with black stripes, burst through the trees and skidded to a stop in the clearing. It lifted its big head, darting it around until its eyes fell on Grog, and widened.

Grog grinned. “Hiya. Need something?”

In a bright puff of nervous magic, Keyleth shifted back to herself, clutching her staff in two hands, face flushed pink and eyes trailing over Grog and Ukurat’s very naked bodies. “I– I– you were gone a long time and I was getting nervous, and then I heard the– the yelling. I, um.” She swallowed, wringing her fingers over her staff. “I turned into Minxie and smelled your blood, I thought...”

Chuckling, Grog clenched around Ukurat to make him groan, laughing louder at the way Keyleth yelped and turned her back on them. “Nah,” Grog said. “It’s all good. Guess we should be leaving soon, though, if we don’t want to risk too bad of one of those time skip thingies.”

“Um. Yeah.” Keyleth glanced over her shoulder and turned quickly back. “Just– let me know when you’re finished. I’ll be… nearby.” She shuffled to where she’d burst through the forest, taking her own path back out of the clearing and far away from the intimate scene.

“She looks different,” Ukurat said, trailing a hand down Grog’s side.

“Cut her hair.”

“No,” Ukurat rumbled. “She is… more confident. She stands like a leader. Even while flailing about like a gasping fish.”

“Yeah, well. She’s done a few good things since you saw her.” Grog stretched and pushed back against Ukurat’s knot, relishing the way he twitched and groaned. “I figure we got a few minutes ‘fore she comes back. Let’s enjoy it.”

Ukurat’s hand tightened on him, nails digging in. He leaned close and laved his long, hot tongue over the back of Grog’s shoulder. “You, too, have changed. You’re much wiser.”

Grog snorted and spread his legs wider, moaning when Ukurat took the chance to shove his knot deep, long teeth digging into his flesh. Yeah, coming here had been a good decision. He got a good, deep fucking and a decent fight. And it was the first time he’d seen Keyleth do anything but mope in a while. A win win if Grog had ever seen one.


End file.
